


(I Carry It in My Heart)

by arianakristine



Series: I Carry Your Heart [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianakristine/pseuds/arianakristine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU 1x07 (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter) and its aftermath. Gremma</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Carry It in My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Stream of consciousness writing while full of Gremma feels. Some Charming family (mostly Snow&Emma and Emma&Henry). Season 1 spoilers.

She doesn’t notice a light emit as their lips touch, pulsating around his head for only a moment and instead it’s the wide eyes and shocked expression that pulls her focus. He cradles her face (like she’s being _cherished_ , dammit, and for once she _believes_ ) and there’s a single tear and an _I remember_ and a _thank you_ that feels greater than even his gentle words.

The kiss deepens and becomes desperate and her hands find themselves tangling in his shirtfront, impatiently opening buttons. He pauses, barely parting their lips, words of protest and _not yet_ and _we shouldn’t_ falling even as he brushes the skin under the hem of her black tank top with calloused fingers. She ignores this, the plastic circles making a clatter on linoleum as she finally rips the last of it open. Finally, a last comment as he wonders if it should be here, but his place is _hers_ and her place is Mary Margaret’s, and this office is _theirs_ and theirs _alone_. She pulls him on top of her, falling onto the desktop, papers clattering mutedly and _one nighters are as far as I ever go_ but maybe not this time.

     His clothes are hanging off his body in a way that seems funny, clasps missing from the bottom third. She giggles as she fastens her jeans and his fingers encircle her wrist and it’s that heat again that’s so palpable. He leans forward, their foreheads knocking together first, then noses, then lips. Mirth dances in his blue (hazel? brown?) eyes and she smiles the bright smile that she thinks is only for him. He breathes her in, murmurs something against her lips that sounds like _trouble once this gets out_ , but she doesn’t care. He comes closer, about to join their lips again; she feels anticipation pool in her belly, and maybe they got dressed too soon, but then he’s falling, back and to the ground with a sickening thud. His eyes are wide and she can see the pain reflected in them, bright and intense, and then it’s gone gone _gone_ , along with any other light.

She’s not sure exactly when the ambulance comes. The phone is still in her hands, hanging limply from her grasp as the operator tries ( _miss, are you still on the line? Miss?)_ to get her attention. The paramedics are hurried, dragging him onto a gurney and they begin to push against his chest in a rapid tattoo and press air into his lungs with a big plastic bag. But she knows, _knows_ that he is gone and was gone before she even had a chance to realize what that look he gave her was.

     The casket is too dark, too shiny; she wants to beat her fists against it until it cracks and splinters and oh, _God_ , it can’t be _his_. She stands too stoic, Henry staring at her with wet eyes from beneath his mother’s grasp. Mary Margaret grasps her hand and it’s bruising, its grip, but she can’t feel it and _why did this happen_ and _never again_ passes through her mind in rotation.

At home (not hers, not _theirs_ ), she collapses into herself. She doesn’t make a sound, but it still feels like she is screaming. She feels crushing pain throughout and Mary’s arms are around her and then she’s the one crushing, but it’s the good kind of crushing. And then she allows the tears to come from that hot, clawing place inside her and it’s ugly crying and she can’t _care_. She doesn’t even remember when she stops, but when she wakes it’s in her bed and her head is like cotton and in no way is she _any_ better.

     She was behind the walls of a cell the first time she was in this position, the toneless but pitying words of the guard drifting through the bars into her consciousness and silently hating Neal. Now, there is a white door that takes just a bit of strength to push off its hinges and on the other side is a friendly face ( _Em, would you like some eggs before you go?_ ) and a silent apology to Graham and yet she can’t form the words to explain what she holds in her hands. The blue is glaring and tactless and _why now_. She methodically cleans all evidence and passes Mary Margaret without a second glance.

She drives for hours and then she’s at the castle that’s wrecked like her. She sits on the bench where she and Henry sit and it _hurts_. Her cellphone is in her hand and she has mapped the way to the nearest Planned Parenthood and all she has to do is hit start and she’ll be navigated there but she _can’t_. She physically can’t press the button, but she can’t keep it, could she, and she can’t do what she did with Henry, and she’s _stuck_.

It’s the stranger that finds her, when the sun is just touching the horizon, causing the sky to turn pink and orange and too bright for her right now. He doesn’t say anything for once, not to jostle her or pique her interest. She realizes the phone is still in her hand, and he takes it gingerly and turns it off. He doesn’t mention the screen image, doesn’t touch her. Finally, finally, she looks up at him and her eyes are dry and scratchy and blurry but she sees the guilt and regret all over his face and it’s confusing and right. _It’ll be okay_ and he drives her yellow bug home _._

     Mary Margaret is sneaking around and doesn’t think Emma notices. She sees, all right, and knows it can’t be good and no married men and no involved men and no _men_. But it’s comes at the right time and her bathroom trips aren’t noticed when they’re both trying to hide from each other. She’s happy, she thinks, and she tries not to think of why the fact snarls and tears at her soul. But then they’re not together and it’s bad and awful and they are able to comfort each other even if Mary doesn’t know that Emma needs the comfort just as bad.

    She wakes and the room is still spinning and Jefferson is in front of her. His gaze is remorseful and a _wouldn’t have drugged you if I knew_ is forced past his lips. Her wrists are sore and tied behind her but she’s unafraid. She looks at him placidly and waits for his demands and _god, is that Mary Margaret tied in the next room?_ He finally shows the hat, and _there’s magic inside you_ , and maybe more with the child, and Mary’s eyes widen and finally _see_. She works until her fingers bleed and she worries and _could it be true_ and denials. Finally an opportunity, she swings the telescope and there’s a resounding thud as he lands on the wood and she tries not to think about what it reminds her of. She’s almost caught, but he’s too careful now that he knows and Mary’s angrier now that she knows and he is out the window before they are too much in danger.

She expects betrayal to light her roommate’s eyes, expects only anger at her secret, expects herself to be kicked out, and _isn’t it always that way_ and always a realist. Instead, Mary makes cocoa with cinnamon and asks her plans and offers help and support and oh, _God_ , is this what it’s like to _belong_. She can’t handle it and she’s out the door again and tears not quite escaping. She’s only gone an hour this time and she returns and an apology is on her tongue, but Mary only holds her close and lets the tears fall. She has only one question, if it’s _his_ , and that sets off another round of choking sobs. But Mary just strokes her hair and tells her it’ll be okay and she wonders if this is what it would have been like to have a mother.

     Katherine is fine but scared and looks at her with only confusion flaming in her steady blue gaze and she knows Regina is behind this. August joins her side one day and cajoles her to hear his story to defeat Regina and she looks warily at his bike before he takes her keys. He ignores her distension hidden under puffy jacket and thick sweater and doesn’t ever _ever_ mention the evening in the park. He takes her to the woods where she was found and shows a leg not made of wood and his disappointment is so profound that she wonders. He wants her to take the responsibility and she already _has_ a new responsibility she wanted nothing to do with and _why this one too_?

She’s had about enough and the frustration is building within her as is the _runrunrun_ that always has been a part of her. She asks Henry to leave with her, and once he’s in the car _there_ is the betrayal and anger when he sees the new swell of her belly. She tries to stop his tears and (too late, much too late) cradles him and whispers that she isn’t replacing him and _knows_ it’s true. Then he looks at her with wonder and thinks maybe the baby is a product of _true love_ and it will break the curse and suddenly he’s smiles and optimism (not her, never her). Her hands burn and she wants to slap it out of him and _this is their chance_ , but he refuses to leave. He presses small palms against her belly and begs her to understand that this is destiny and fate and all those things Emma doesn’t want to hear. She stays.

     She’s exhausted when she enters the apartment shared with Mary Margaret, and for once her roommate’s lips, set in a thin irate line, are directed at her. She is wounded ( _didn’t let me know_ ) and _to take Henry_ and she implores Emma to consider that she is only hurting her son with the feud with Regina. She tries to find a loophole, some way to make him _all hers_ , and there is nothing. She gives up, she is done. She arrives at Regina’s door, half-smirking at the surprise as she sees her belly, and informs her of her plan. An apple turnover is pressed into her hands and a _faretheewell_ and a barely hidden look of triumph in the dark gaze of her enemy. Her eyes still flick to her stomach with question, but Emma offers no explanation. She thanks her for the turnover.

Henry has never asked, she realizes, as she places the Tupperware on the counter and packs her (meager, lonesome) things. He assumes there was _true love_ , but never asks about the father. She hasn’t thought of _him_ , not directly, in a while, and it stings to think he may have been forgotten. Her son (soon to be a sibling) pushes through the door and begs her to stay and defeat the curse and _you’re the savior_ ( _you said you weren’t replacing me and now you’re leaving me_ ). Then he spots the pastry and worries and says he will _prove_ it, and he is eating it and collapsing before she can comprehend it. She is paralyzed and her brain even freezes and it is _almost the same_ and it can’t be happening _again_.

     Her son is in the hospital, and she suddenly knows that everything he said is true: fairy tales and Snow White and Evil Queens and _stealing hearts_. White hot rage courses through her and Regina is pushed back by a gleaming white-gold light that is _not_ her fists as she intended. Shock registers only for a moment and Regina admits it with horror at what she’s done and it’s off to Gold (Rumplestiltskin) who _knows_. He sees her and her belly and is not surprised and even seems pleased. He speaks of true love and potions and her father’s sword. Then he regards her and says she should be happy for the curse because without it she wouldn’t have Henry or certainly not this girl-child within her and it infuriates her and it’s _true_. Regina _doesn’t like to be left_ _out_ but ignores it as she refocuses on the son they share.

     She smells like sulfur and it’s hopeless ( _of course_ ) and her stomach rolls as she enters the ICU without a potion. She cries burning tears and cradles his lifeless face in her hands and _so sorry I didn’t believe_. She admits now that she loved Graham and she loves the baby inside her and she loves Henry _so much_ and _her men can’t be gone_. She leans forward and he smells like antiseptic and shampoo and like _her kid_ and she whispers aloud her realization. Her lips touch his forehead in a gentle caress, a final goodbye, and the same golden light burst from her and _them_ and then spreads and rushes over the town. His eyes blink open and she finds herself grinning wide (not just for Graham, then) and hugging his fragile body to her as close as she can with his sister between them. He holds her just as tight.

     The curse is broke and magic spools into the land in a dark purple cloud. She sees Mary and David (Snow and Charming, her _parents_ ) and they run for her. Their eyes hold love and happiness  and fear and relief and sadness and it’s _too much_ but she doesn’t run from it. Snow tumbles out an apology but not what she thought and it’s for Graham, her huntsman who let both parents run free, and she _can’t do this right now_. She falls back against Henry who tries to support her unsteadiness and she catches the realization in his eyes. _You do have a special connection_ is his murmur and it stings and the baby rolls within her and still she sees the sadness in his eyes (not pity). David (father) is uncomfortable and stiff but offers support and she can see the longing in his bright eyes.

     She doesn’t try to sleep that night, the night after the curse broke. Henry sleeps down the hall between her parents and the cacophony of steady breathing proves their restfulness. The child is restless within her and she wonders if it from the events, the magic, or her own emotion. Then there is scratching at the door and she opens to find the wolf (one red eye, one black, a brother). He leaps to the foot of her bed and rests his head like a labrador and she tentatively strokes its white-grey fur. It whines and whimpers and presses its nose into her stomach and the baby quiets and she finally sleeps with one arm around her protector and the other around her belly.

Across town, a figure stirs underneath the cover of trees and opens hazel (blue? brown?) eyes.

End.   


End file.
